


Looking Ahead

by DGCatAniSiri



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DGCatAniSiri/pseuds/DGCatAniSiri
Summary: Shepard and Kaidan have a quiet conversation about the future.





	Looking Ahead

Sometimes, the war didn’t seem so close. 

Sure, the Normandy was constantly in and out of the Citadel, between skirmishes with Reaper forces or Cerberus soldiers. Every time they came back, they were greeted with wounded, with soldiers who’d lost limbs, refugees who’d lost their homes, both having lost friends and family. The war was never really that far away. 

But there were places on the Citadel that offered a respite. A much needed break from the doom and gloom that everyone seemed wrapped up in. 

A few blocks down from Apollo’s Café, there was a small little bistro which overlooked the long stretch of park land that made up the center stripe of the Presidium. The families on the Citadel liked to use it to let their children run around, give them the chance to make believe that nothing was wrong.

Kaidan hadn’t been released from Huerta Memorial until after Shepard had evacuated the last few students from Grissom Academy, but he’d heard about it, and read the reports. He knew that this war was leaving its scars on the young. Even if their parents were protecting them from the worst of the war’s effects, these were still kids seeing their parents falling apart, and those were the lucky ones who hadn’t lost one or both parents in the fighting. Even the best of them would only be able to hide so much. Kids were more observant than they got credit for a lot of the time. They might not know or understand why, but they’d recognize the worry, the fear, the anger in their parents’ eyes...

Okay. Maybe the war wasn’t quite that distant.

“Hey.” Shepard’s voice – and the smell of the food he was carrying – pulled Kaidan out of his lapse off into heavy thoughts. Kaidan turned and smiled at him, accepting the plate. Shepard grinned slightly at him. “You seemed far away there.”

“Just... thinking.” Kaidan motioned to the park. “There’s a lot of trauma coming for the next generation, isn’t there? Makes what happened with Conatix and Jump Zero look like a scraped knee.”

“I suppose so.” Kaidan appreciated that Shepard didn’t add the more cynical (or realistic) viewpoint that it was entirely possible that the next generation wouldn’t come, that the Reapers would wipe them out before they had a chance to be concerned with trauma. Shepard might be fighting for that future, but it wasn’t exactly a stretch to imagine that they weren’t going to succeed. The light glow of Shepard’s implants indicated that those were thoughts he grappled with more than he’d spoken of, even if he had to be the beacon of hope for a galaxy.

As Kaidan glanced back out to the park, Shepard realized that this was more than a passing thought. “You want to try and see what we can do about setting something up now? Maybe, I don’t know... some kind of war orphan fund?”

“That’s an idea. I’m sure there’s someone out there who’s already trying to figure out how to reward you for saving the galaxy,” Kaidan said with a gentle laugh. It was, after all, no secret that Commander Shepard was going to be the one to stop the Reapers. He’d been at the forefront of this war before it had even begun, of course he’d be the one to end it. 

Still, the fact understandably caused Shepard to grimace – one more person out there who’d try to bank on his name to make a few credits. Given the whole thing with the unauthorized Shepard VI, he didn’t exactly see that turning out so well. 

“I could do without letting someone else in control of my image, thank you.”

“Oh come on. The Shepard VI was actually pretty funny.”

Shepard’s face fell, and Kaidan just – JUST – managed to keep from cracking up completely at the sight. “Tell me you don’t have one of those things.”

“So you’re saying asking Liara to set one up in the apartment instead of Glyph is a no, then?” Kaidan said, now openly chuckling at the mortification on Shepard’s face. 

They ate their food, looking out on the scene of the park, where the families played and the war didn’t seem like it was constantly pressing in on them. They sat at the table, eating their food, and pointedly not discussing the war. That left them with small talk, but there was something enjoyable in the normalcy of it all. They discussed ship-based matters, issues of stocks and resupply, the frustration of politics (even with the war, the day-to-day matters of what laws were passed and what funds were going where still earned a few headlines), and tried not to think about the squid-things in the room.

Eventually, the projected “sunlight” began to dim, indicating that it was getting late. The park cleared out, leaving less reason to stay and people watch. Shepard and Kaidan paid their bill and called a cab back down to the Silversun Strip. There was something peaceful about having a home to come back to, other than returning to the Normandy and the cabin. It felt like it grounded them a little more to a world that they could otherwise drift away from, a reminder that, yes, they were part of the galaxy they were trying to save.

As they both settled in for the evening (though the Silversun Strip seemed to be one of the few places in the galaxy that never slept, considering the bright neon lights that flashed into the living area all night – fortunately, the window was set to filter out the lights of the Strip when its inhabitants were trying to sleep), the gears in Kaidan’s head were still turning over the sight of the families in the park, the touch of normalcy... The idea of what the future held.

“You know, Shepard... Watching those kids playing in the park got me thinking,” Kaidan said abruptly, causing Shepard to turn from the kitchen cabinets, having been looking for some wine glasses.

Shepard couldn’t resist a cheeky grin. “Well, that’s never a good thing,” he said. Kaidan sent him a mock glare, knowing that Shepard was joking with him, and that he couldn’t resist that bait. Kaidan privately resolved that he’d work on honing his biotics enough to be able to biotically flick Shepard when he did that.

Shaking his head, Kaidan made to get back to the point. “What do you think about what you’ll do after the war? I mean, I know the oaths we swore about duty and service, but... I feel like for just about everyone, after this, we’re all going to feel like we’ve given enough.” The Alliance had offered Kaidan a place to belong, a place that didn’t view him as a glowing freak because of his biotics. But after the war... Kaidan wasn’t sure that he’d still be able to wear the Alliance uniform without remembering everything that he’d seen and done in this war. Or the fact that his father had gone MIA wearing one, when every MIA soldier was most likely either left to rot in Reaper-held No Man’s Land or turned into a husk...

No, we’re not going down that rabbit hole.

Kaidan appreciated the opportunities the Alliance had offered him, but he truly didn’t know if he’d be able to wear the uniform after the war. That he was even considering hanging it up, it told him that it was something that he needed to give serious consideration to. 

All of that realization ran through his head in a flash, briefly making him wonder if he needed to explain where all of this came from to Shepard. 

It seemed, though, that Shepard was familiar enough with how Kaidan’s mind worked, because he didn’t ask about the logic trail. He just leaned against the kitchen counter for a minute, thinking. “I try not to, really. Thinking about the future is... terrifying sometimes. Most of the time.” Kaidan could understand that – there were a lot of things that made the idea of the future something to avoid, even when you didn’t have the specter of the Reapers looming over you.

“You don’t think you’ll have one?” Kaidan asked.

“That’s part of it. It’s hard to think in terms of ‘after the war.’ It’s already killed me once.” Shepard’s muttered comment was still loud and clear enough for Kaidan, though he’d never quite been able to wrap his head around the concept. Shepard continued before he could focus on it. “I’ve spent so much of my life focused on the Reapers. I know it’s only been a few years, but... It’s taken over all our lives.”

Kaidan couldn’t argue that. The war – and the things that had led to it – had pretty much consumed their lives. It was hard for a war that would literally determine the fate of the galaxy not to be something that took over all other concerns. 

“Thinking about the future has been... hard to do.” 

“Well... I think it’s important we try. Fighting this war without some kind of idea of what we’re going to do afterwards... I mean, a man goes into a battlefield, convinced he’s going to die, he’ll probably find a way to make that happen.” Kaidan had, more than once, had an unsettling thought that Shepard was running around with something of a death wish. It wasn’t completely unbelievable, given the things that he’d been through since Saren – hell, even before, watching his unit die on Akuze. 

Shepard took a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Okay. So... Let’s start simple in figuring this out.”

Always a good place to start from. “Okay... Where do you want to live? Depending on habitability, of course.” It wasn’t until after suggesting the question that Kaidan realized how awkward that question might be, considering that the reports indicated that some planets in Reaper control were likely to need decades, if not centuries, to recover from the devastation, that some planets seemed to be permanently scarred from the fighting. Still, it was a good place to start from. 

Shepard took a few moments to mull that question over, seeming to jump over the awkwardness of the concept. “I think here’s a good start. Just... Not Earth.”

That was a surprise. Kaidan blinked, processing that. “Really?”

“I know we’re fighting to take Earth back, but... I think I’ll only see what was lost. What we might have been able to protect and preserve if something had been done sooner.”

“Shepard... You know you did everything you could, more than anyone else could have, to try and get people to pay attention, to act.”

“Maybe...” Shepard said it in a way that made it clear that he didn’t believe it. “But still, it’s always going to feel like something that I could have done differently, that there was some way I could have convinced the Council, the Alliance, anyone to take more steps ahead of time, ready us better for this fight. No matter what anyone says, that’s always going to be there.”

Kaidan wanted to argue... But then he remembered Vyrnnus. Hadn’t he spent years wondering if he could have done something different, something that hadn’t made him a killer at fifteen? Hadn’t led to him having blood on his hands so early in life? And that had just been the death of one man. Magnify that by the countless lives lost already... He could understand the guilt that Shepard felt, even knowing that his actions alone hadn’t been what had decided the course of this war.

“You’ll always have me there, Shepard. I promise.” 

That seemed to surprise Shepard – maybe he’d been expecting another round of the ‘it’s not your fault people didn’t listen’ argument. He smiled sadly – perhaps thinking about how easily that promise could be broken, given the war. But what mattered was the offer. 

Shepard finally moved away from the kitchen, sitting next to Kaidan, curling up close to him, an arm slung around Kaidan, gently rubbing his upper arm. “Anything else about the future you think we need to go over right now?”

“Earth’s off the table, so probably we just live here... Unless you want to go dirtside?” There were going to be colonies desperate for repopulation after all of this, and any place that could have Commander Shepard on hand would be happy for the purposes of morale. 

That thought was clearly something that came to mind for Shepard, and he grimaced. “Yeah, this is... as good a place as any.” He motioned to the windows. “Have I mentioned that I’m glad those windows are one-way?” Even considering that it was illegal for skycars to get too close to a residential building like the Tiberius Towers, it wasn’t like little things like the law ever stopped a determined stalkerazzi. And Commander Shepard would be at the top of their lists, most likely. Tiberius Towers had a promise of privacy, and seemed determined to keep it.

“Yeah, same here.” Kaidan couldn’t help but chuckle. “So. That’s living situation figured out. Anything else we should consider about the future?”

“I think we ought to delay any honeymoon plans until after any tourist attraction gets back on its feet,” Shepard said with a grin.

Kaidan raised an eyebrow. “Honeymoon? Last I checked, neither of us had proposed. Or are you getting at something?”

But Shepard was tight-lipped. “Just seeing if you were still paying attention.” That was something that said that there were plans for the future. Not that he hadn’t considered it, but...

Still, Kaidan was willing to let that go for the moment. That implied a future, one that they were already discussing – it seemed a given that they’d be making this future together, so they’d worry about something that would, effectively, be just a matter of paperwork. “So, no to where to take vacations.” Kaidan paused, figuring the next one might be an issue. “What about kids? There’s going to be a lot of war orphans when the fighting’s done.”

There was a moment of silence as Shepard thought things over. “I don’t know... I don’t think I’d be... right? Or comfortable? Or... I don’t think that having kids is...” He trailed off, but Kaidan got the message. At his nod, Shepard continued. “I don’t see it happening.”

Kaidan hadn’t spent much time on the idea of having kids. It was always something that made up a part of the vague, undefined “future.” His mother had certainly spoken about how she’d spoil any grandchildren, but as for Kaidan himself... It had never really been anything more than an abstraction. Maybe something that, when he’d thought about being with a woman, he’d seen as likely, but... Well, accidental pregnancies weren’t exactly in the cards so long as he was with John Shepard. 

“I can work with that. You’re everything I need,” Kaidan said. He could see the relief on Shepard’s face at the casual acceptance of not having children. He wondered if that had been a deal breaker in some prior relationship. 

Well, it’s not here, so their loss is my gain.

Where to live and having kids... Those seemed liked the biggest of questions. “Are you thinking about staying with the Alliance?” Shepard asked.

That was one of the things that, in hindsight, had been what led Kaidan to loving Shepard. He could read him so clearly, so deftly, could figure out what he was thinking. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it. And I’ve thought about hanging up the uniform. It’s... something of a toss-up right now.”

“I’m pretty sure however that plays out, Hackett would let us have indefinite medical leave,” Shepard said. Kaidan couldn’t argue that.

“What do you want? I mean... It’s hard to see anyone telling Commander Shepard that he’d have to stay on as the Alliance poster boy after this. Hell, the Council probably wouldn’t even be able to argue the first human Spectre stepping down.” The only reason Kaidan could see that the second human Spectre would have difficulty would be in humanity wanting to have that representation in the Spectres, though he was willing to bet that of all candidates, James Vega would be among the top names to consider as following up on Shepard and Kaidan’s legacies.

“It’s... Honestly it’s strange to think about stepping out of the uniform. But... Yeah. I think I will. If nothing else, if I stay, I’m virtually guaranteed to be kicked upstairs or used for nothing more than flag-waving morale trips.” Shepard was quiet for a moment, but Kaidan could tell that he was thinking, that there was something that would follow that idea. “I don’t know what I’d do instead, though.”

“Well, you could always write your memoirs.”

“I think I’ll wait a while on that. Let Liara and Javik’s book on the protheans fall off the bestseller list first. It wouldn’t seem fair.”

Despite the joke, Kaidan understood Shepard’s concern. He had spent years in the Alliance. It had been his life, the only life he’d really ever known, given his parents’ careers. Giving it up was appealing, considering that the war was enough service for ten lifetimes. But Shepard was only in his early thirties, by any metric of human lifespans, he wasn’t even due for the midlife crisis, let alone settling down in some retirement community.

“Was there anything you wanted to be as a kid, something you never thought you could do while also serving in the Alliance?” Kaidan asked. Finding something now might not be necessary, but this was all about trying to figure out a future worth fighting for, so why not lay the foundation?

“Not really. I wanted to be out in space, seeing the things that no human ever has before.” He paused. “You know, the truth is... I still want that. I still want to explore the galaxy and... find the things that are completely new to humanity. Is that weird?”

Kaidan couldn’t help but smile. “Not at all. In fact, I think that’s a good thing. It means the Reapers haven’t taken the wonder or the magic out of space for you.” He thought for a minute. “You know, it’s possible that after all of this is over... The Council might relax some of their restrictions on exploration.” The First Contact War had started because of the Council’s law on activating dormant Mass Relays. With the Reapers defeated, there was a good chance to believe that the Alliance, if no one else, would push for a new age of exploration – Surviving the greatest existential threat to civilization would encourage an idea that they could handle whatever was on the other side of the Relays, at least among the Alliance, and, likely, that would be infectious and spread to the other races.

That seemed to strike a chord with Shepard. “You think?”

“I think that, once we feel like we’ve got the ground solid under our feet, it’s gonna be hard to stop people from wanting to go out into the galaxy, see what else is out there. There’s a galaxy to explore.” Kaidan took Shepard’s hand. “If you want to, I’d go explore it with you.”

“That’d be... an adventure to go on, all right. It’d certainly be something that... would feel like it’s not just sitting around, letting my life be over.” Shepard smiled at Kaidan. “You want to do this alone, or should we take the Normandy?”

“Would EDI let us?” Kaidan had no illusions that, regardless of the Normandy flying the Alliance’s colors, EDI was the final decider of who was going to set the Normandy’s course. And he doubted that anyone other than Joker was going to get to fly her, either. 

“I think she’d be up for a new audience to her jokes.” Put it that way, Kaidan could imagine that EDI would be completely on board with the very idea. 

Kaidan smiled, craning his head to meet Shepard’s gaze. “You know, Shepard... It sounds like we have a pretty solid idea of the future here.”

“Yeah. I suppose we do.”


End file.
